


This Shattered World

by Xilizhra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xilizhra/pseuds/Xilizhra
Summary: Two witches, two futures hoped for, one offer between them.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	This Shattered World

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a drabble, then it wasn't.

She doesn't smell blood.

Magical conflict spills less blood than Muggle warfare, doesn't it? Smoke, yes, whole rooms of it. Dust, too, from shattered walls and collapsed ceilings. But no blood, at least not here, well away from the room with the gathered corpses. How easy it is, alone like this, standing on a slope of rubble below a blasted hole in the castle walls, to pretend that this was a disaster that happened to her alone, that no one else had suffered and died for her inability to protect them.

Hermione closes her eyes and fills her lungs with as much smoke as she can, banishing whatever memories she can of the scents of death.

Below her, uncannily well-illuminated on what's frankly an indecently bright and starry night, she sees a dark figure approaching her lonely wall. She bites back an incongruous giggle at a totally unbidden double entendre that crosses her mind, before closing her eyes and letting the tears fall.

Bellatrix unhurriedly levitates herself to the top of the wall, seeming to feel no pain from the angry slash down her cheek or the burned patches on her battle robes, and focuses her intense, obsidian gaze on Hermione's watery, chocolate one. "I thought that was you, Granger. Only you have hair like that."

Hermione lets out a hopeless sort of exhalation that could pass as a chuckle to the generous. "Lestrange? What are you doing away from your master?"

"Surveillance. Supposed to stay out of sight." Bellatrix sits down on one of the ruined segments of wall, once more demonstrating that infuriating talent she has for making herself at home anywhere. Hermione despises her for her poise, sometimes, when she's not pitying her for her hatred. But hatred is completely gone from her face tonight, leaving only curiosity and... concern? Surely not concern.

"Oh." Hermione looks down at the scars on her arm, tracing her fingers over the crude letters. Driven by panic to fuel the hatred, as much fear of Voldemort's wrath as it was Bellatrix's fear of her own slipping control. When hatred had crumbled in the face of desire... though even after that night, Hermione couldn't precisely say what the dark witch's desire had been for. Flesh? Domination? Or even some sort of kinship? "I suppose I'm the most interesting thing in Hogwarts?"

Bellatrix chuckles, shaking her head. "Oh, you are, pet. I couldn't give a toss about the rest. All I want to know is if you meant what you said."  
Hermione feels as though her breath freezes in her lungs.

_"Pet," Bellatrix hissed as she pulled bloodily back from Hermione's lips, her sharp features in an incongruously open and vulnerable expression as she looked into the eyes of her unexpected lover. "When the Dark Lord wins, don't die fighting like the rest of you Gryffindor idiots. Find me. Throw yourself on my mercy. I'm not without it."_ _Hermione scoffed. "Oh, as if I be--" Her words were cut off by a moan as Bellatrix curled the fingers between her legs, drawing her slightly closer and sending little pulses of fire through her body._

_"If you believe anything, believe that, Mudblood," Bellatrix growled as she found Hermione's lips again. "I would never break such a pretty toy."_

_And while it was nothing she had pictured herself wanting, it was her captor's possessiveness, along with the sheer need she'd allowed herself to display, that spurred on Hermione's climax, and she moaned thoughts too true for words or coherence into Bellatrix's mouth. When it was over, she clung to Bellatrix's back like a drowning woman, murmuring the first coherent word of her post-climax._

"Yes."

Bellatrix's eyes widen; Hermione suspects she hadn't really expected it, and that brief flash of could-it-be-joy is such a beacon to Hermione's heart that she hates herself for snuffing it out.

"If we're losing and can't possibly win. I'm still going to fight."

Bellatrix hides the dismay well with a shroud of disdain. "That's where you are already, Granger. Your best hope is that Potter really does give himself up."

"It doesn't matter." Hermione is immensely glad that her voice no longer sounds weak, even to herself, and she rises to stand over Bellatrix, only coughing a little on the smoke. "I'm not turning on my friends. I'm not a traitor, Bellatrix, especially not for Voldemort's sake. What we had doesn't... doesn't change that."

Bellatrix studies her for several moments before rising too, not quite matching Hermione's height, but steadily meeting her gaze. "Fine. I'll see if I can find and stun you before the others get you. If you're lucky, it'll be early enough that you won't see your friends die either." She turns as if to jump back down the wall, but Hermione speaks first.

"Bella... what if we win?"

Bellatrix freezes at suddenly being addressed by a pet name Hermione had only used twice before, and slowly turns, raising an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"If the Order and Hogwarts win the battle. You could end up in Azkaban again... maybe even at the mercy of the Dementors. If they don't just kill you in the fight. If you find a chance to surrender, I'll do everything I can to give you some kind of clemency."

Bellatrix lets out a barking laugh. "Hah! Surrender? You wish, pet. I go down fighting. Even if it wasn't for the Dark Lord, I'd never bow to you ridiculous sods."

Hermione sighs, feeling her heart break just a little more. But... Bellatrix isn't dead yet. Maybe Hermione doesn't have to run away from the scent of her blood too... or perhaps Hermione's fate is to be the only one who carries the memory of Bellatrix Lestrange as something other than a monster. Either way, she has only one option.

Salmon lips meet deep red ones, and Hermione pulls Bellatrix into what could be the last embrace of either of their lives. When they part from the kiss, Hermione murmurs softly into Bellatrix's ear, "May the best witch win."

"May the best witch win." Bellatrix gives her a wry smile, yet another expression that seems so out of place on the Dark Lord's right hand, and blows Hermione a kiss as she steps backward into a rising plume of smoke, drifting down and away, back to her master.


End file.
